


“I’m a Legend—I’m not a Fable”

by WantonWhale



Series: Promises You'll Only Make [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Anal, Chiss anatomy is thoughtful even when Chiss lovers are not, Choking, Dark!Thrawn, Desk fucking, Dominance and Submission, Dramatic villainous monologuing, Hair Pulling, Hate Sex, Humiliation, I blame select repeat commenters for this fic, Implied Character Death, Kallus really wants Thrawn to fuck him but I question his judgment, Kallus whump, M/M, No Negotiation, Oh no I got Legends!Thrawn chocolate on my Canon!Thrawn peanut butter, Over stimulation, Rough Sex, Thrawn makes a lot of precum basically, ass-kicking as fucked up foreplay, dub con, face fucking, fanfiction squared, wall fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantonWhale/pseuds/WantonWhale
Summary: Kallus confronts Thrawn and demands to know what he did to Eli Vanto.Thrawn shows him.Preview:"What thehell are you?” Kallus asked, his voice cracking from the memory of Thrawn’s clenched fist at his throat.“I am the one who can stand before a Sith Lord andlie," Thrawn hissed. "I am the reason you have never heard of monsters like the Vagaari and the reason you neverwill. While you were fed tea and butter from silver spoons on Coruscant, I was clawing my way out of the ice and darkness to become the thing every monster you were toostupidto evenknow existed fears.”Thrawn bent down, grasped the front of Kallus’s tunic in his hand to force him upward. “I am Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Ascendancy and I did not sacrifice everything to lose tovermin like you.”Series note:An alternative take on events fromPromises You’ll Only Make, but you don’t really need to be familiar with the story to make sense of this bc smut.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thranto (Mentioned)
Series: Promises You'll Only Make [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673212
Comments: 20
Kudos: 30





	“I’m a Legend—I’m not a Fable”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chaos_monkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/gifts).



> Title from Marylin Manson, “[SAY-10](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2T4QdqlNLw)"
> 
>  **Series note:** An alternative take on events from _Promises You’ll Only Make_ , but you don’t need to be familiar with the story to make sense of this; basically, Kallus had an extended affair with Eli which may or may not have been orchestrated by Thrawn. Then, Eli disappeared. You're caught up!
> 
> Dedicated to the wonderful repeat-commenters who peer-pressured me into publishing some Thrallus action. I'm not gonna name names (unless you want me to); so I hope you realize who y'all are 💙🐳💙

It was the early hours of the night as Kallus made his way through the _Chimaera’s_ durasteel halls. He’d been forced to chance a Fulcrum transmission on improvised equipment; the risk to himself could not compare to the need of the many. But of course, Thrawn knew his own ship with all the intimacy of a lover.

Even with the cameras disabled, there was nothing beyond his knowledge—no surface of this ship he couldn’t _touch._

Still, the man was proud. It was his only weakness, but it _was_ a weakness nonetheless. 

Kallus glanced at his trilling comlink, reading Grand Admiral Thrawn’s frequency-code:

<Come to my office at your earliest convenience, Agent>

<I wish to assess the progress of your rehabilitation.>

Kallus stared down at his comlink, adrenaline stoked by fear and possibilities sizzling in his bloodstream. _If he could get Thrawn alone… if he could take him out now… the Rebels might have a chance._

_He could do it for them._

_He could do it for Eli._

Clenching his jaw in determination, Kallus shifted direction and made for the grand admiral’s office.

Kallus had already heard of the admiral’s personal training rooms, but he had not expected the man to be waiting for him there: clad only in a pair of tight pants, absently twirling a fighting staff in one hand as he awaited the agent.

He wondered if the visual allusion to their first meeting at the Yinchom dojo a decade ago was intentional.

_Stupid question, really._

In spite of everything, the one word Kallus could think to describe the man _then_ was still the one that came to mind _now_ : _Striking._

The fact that the grand admiral appeared to battle assassin droids _by hand_ and with _nothing_ protecting his skin made perfect sense in his mind. Because Thrawn didn’t look like he was made of flesh: he looked like he’d been _sculpted_ out of something harder.

_Something lethal._

“Agent Kallus,” Thrawn said, replacing the weapon on the rack.

Kallus inclined his head and greeted, “Grand Admiral,” only keeping his voice level with some difficulty. He considered a moment, then old habits took over; he stepped out of his black boots before entering the dojo-like space.

“I have been looking over your files, studying your history...” Thrawn said conversationally as Kallus entered and tugged off his own tunic to reveal a sleeveless black shirt, folding it neatly before plucking off his gloves.

Kallus held his breath as he unholstered his blaster and tucked it into his tunic, placing both against the wall. Something inside him said a blaster shot would be too quick—too merciful. As he watched that mask-like blue face watch him with all the confidence and apathy of an apex predator, he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was smashing it with his _bare fists_.

He wondered what color Thrawn bruised.

“I was fortunate enough to be able to find holo-recordings of some of your matches: you were a fighter of some note,” Thrawn continued. “The first of your relatively young age group to win the Academy’s martial arts tournament: a record you still hold, I believe.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” Kallus said, warily eying the assassin droids bivouacked on the far wall as he flexed his gloveless hands.

“This was in the Echani style, yes?” Thrawn asked. “A style that utilizes momentum to take down a more powerful opponent, relying heavily on throws.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral.”

“Show me,” Thrawn said, bending his knees and holding out a beckoning hand in the classic Echani opening stance.

Kallus imitated the gesture for the barest amount of time tradition would allow before running forward, aiming a solid punch at Thrawn’s solar plexus. Unsurprisingly, Thrawn turned and the blow glanced off his bare abdomen; Kallus took the opportunity to hook a foot behind Thrawn’s leg to bring him down. Only, Thrawn had seemed to anticipate the move before he’d even made it, and with a well-placed throw, brought Kallus slamming against the mat instead.

“0 for 1, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn said, completely unaffected by the exertion. “Again.”

Kallus jumped to his feet and took a different approach, attempting to get _Thrawn_ to attempt to throw _him_ so he could counter with a pin-move. But again, Thrawn was at least three moves ahead of him at every turn.

“0 for 2, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn said, looking down at the Agent lying face-down on the mat. "You _are_ good, but... _predictable_."

Kallus growled from his place on the floor, not bothering with an opening stance before hopping to a crouch and charging at Thrawn. He aimed blow after blow, kick after kick, but each one was blocked by a hand far stronger than he would’ve expected from a Human of Thrawn’s size.

“Your anger has made you sloppy,” Thrawn said in that infuriatingly conversational tone as he ducked out from Kallus’s arm, one of his own arms folded behind his back in a self-imposed handicap. “Your need to make this battle personal will be your undoing.” And with that, he used the momentum of Kallus’s next hit to flip the agent onto the ground.

Kallus landed on his stomach by the door. His blaster was _just within reach if he could only_ —

A blue foot slammed down onto his wrist and he gritted his teeth in pain.

“Now, now, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn chided. “You think I did not already have your weapon disabled before summoning you here? If I valued your opinion, I'd be _insulted_.”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” Kallus spat and the heel on his wrist pressed harder.

“Fuck you, _Grand Admiral,_ ” Thrawn corrected with the faintest hint of amusement.

 _This must be how Loth-cats look when they claw off a bird’s wings just to watch it struggle,_ Kallus thought grimly.

With a grunt of effort, Kallus freed his hand and got back to his feet, bending his knees in a defensive crouch. “What did you do to Eli Vanto?” Kallus demanded. “I want to hear you _say it_!”

“I do not care what you want,” Thrawn said in a low voice, prowling forward to meet him. With one hand, he _clawed_ his fingers into Kallus’s injured thigh, and gripped Kallus’s throat with the other, _slamming_ him against the wall.

“ _You need to be stopped_ ,” Kallus gasped around the hand at his throat. “ _And if you kill me, someone else will just—_ ” 

Thrawn clenched his fist on Kallus's throat. His eyes flashed red, his face contorted into a visage of pure rage. He was like a great serpent—a predator—that had finally shed its uniformed scales and when he spoke he _hissed._

“You think your rebellion unwilling to compromise with devils?” Thrawn demanded, tightening his grip with each sentence. “You think if they were given the button to light up Coruscant and every Imperial on it like a funeral pyre of their ideals they wouldn’t press it? You're like a _child_ who has learned his father is _mortal_ and has had to craft new gods just to cope with the futility of his own _worthless life_. There _are_ no more gods, Alexsandr Kallus: there is only _me_.”

Kallus gritted his jaw and summoned all his strength to knee Thrawn in the stomach, collapsing to a gasping heap on the ground as Thrawn stumbled back two steps. He barely had time to catch his breath before Thrawn gripped him by his hair and _lifted_ him up to eye-level with almost preternatural strength before _slamming_ his face against the wall, and tossing him clear across the dojo.

Kallus skidded across the mat, his bare arms burning from the friction. He scrambled to his knees but his injured leg gave out under his own weight. Thrawn’s shadow darkened his vision and he looked up to see red eyes blazing down at him.

Even before the fall of the Jedi order, Kallus had never been a religious man… and at that moment he regretted it.

He had never seen anything so _terrible_ and _beautiful_ in his entire, pathetic life.

“What the _hell are you_?” Kallus asked, his voice cracking from the memory of Thrawn’s clenched fist at his throat.

“I am the one who can stand before a Sith Lord and _lie_ ," Thrawn hissed. "I am the reason you have never heard of monsters like the Vagaari and the reason you never _will_. While you were fed tea and butter from silver spoons on Coruscant, I was clawing my way out of the ice and darkness to become the thing every monster _you_ were too _stupid_ to even _know existed_ fears.”

Thrawn bent down, grasped the front of Kallus’s shirt in his hand to force him upward. “I am Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Ascendancy and I did not sacrifice _everything_ to lose to _vermin like you_.”

Kallus clasped ineffectually at the arm gripping his shirt as he was dragged bodily from the dojo, across the Grand Admiral’s office, and heaved unceremoniously to crash against his desk, landing beside a folded, white uniform. He got his hands out just in time to stop his face from slamming against the ebony wood, and his legs barely had time to collapse beneath him before a fist gripped his hair and held him up. His face burned with humiliation as he felt the desk’s edge digging painfully against his own erection.

“You are aroused,” Thrawn said. It was not a question. When Kallus did not reply, Thrawn tightened the grip on his hair. “Answer me, Agent Kallus.”

Kallus nodded as best he could.

“You despise me—and you _want_ me.”

Kallus grimaced and nodded again.

“And you are terrified.”

“ _Yes_ —”

Thrawn gripped Kallus’s hair in his hand and _ground_ his face into the desk, holding it there, and forcing his body to bend at the waist lest he tear a muscle in his neck. The desk’s surface was a cold respite against his burning arms and face. “You wish to know what I did to Eli Vanto?” Thrawn asked.

Kallus let out the breath he was holding—it was less of an exhale than it was his throat _giving up._ “Yes.”

"I _broke him._ Do you wish to know _why_?"

Kallus could only manage a feeble nod.

Thrawn leaned over him, eclipsing his shivering form with his own. “Because it was _beautiful,_ ” Thrawn whispered in his ear. “Do you wish to be beautiful, Agent Kallus?”

As Thrawn pressed closer against him, Kallus could feel his hard length pressing into his ass through thin fabric. He clenched his eyes shut at the shiver of pure _want_ rolling over his skin. “ _Yes._ ”

Thrawn reached over the Agent to turn on the holo-map installed in his desk before tugging roughly at the Agent’s pants.

Kallus heard the Admiral spit into his palm, then felt two fingers pressing against his hole. He cursed himself for just how much he _wanted this—_ how much he’d _always wanted this._ The fingers retreated and an involuntary whimper escaped his throat.

“Do you know the location of the Rebel base?” Thrawn asked.

“Yes, please just— _ah—_ ” Kallus gasped as two fingers forced their way inside him. He bit his lip as his body clenched at the intrusion, not stopping until he tasted copper. The fingers curled inside him and he pressed his mouth against the desk to cover up the sound of his moan.

“You want to be fucked?” Thrawn asked, crooking his fingers once more and drawing a pathetic _keen_ from the agent beneath him. “Show me the location of the Rebel base.”

Kallus turned his head to rest his cheek against the desk, his panting breaths fogging the polished surface. He reached out a shaking hand and immediately pointed to Atollon.

“Very good, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn said, withdrawing his fingers and straightening once more. “Of course, I had already deduced its location from your _many mistakes._ The Seventh Fleet is already on its way, under the able command of Commander Faro. But your ultimate cooperation is noted.”

Kallus shakily lifted himself to his elbows when the heat of Thrawn’s body left him. He turned to see the Grand Admiral standing in the center of his office, his arms folded across his chest and looking at Kallus with an expectant arch to his eyebrow.

“Get up,” Thrawn ordered. “Take everything off.”

Kallus immediately scrambled to obey, ignoring the screaming of his injuries both old and new as he stripped. He was of a height with Thrawn, but he felt _worlds_ smaller as he approached the flawlessly-sculpted blue man—no, _Chiss,_ he corrected—before him.

“Kneel,” Thrawn said once Kallus was before him.

Kallus winced as he fell to his knees, the cold floor aggravating his already-throbbing leg. He felt his palms sweat with the desire to touch the masterpiece before him. He could see the patch of moisture expanding on his pant leg where the head of his thick cock struggled against the thin material—could smell it, heady and intoxicating, and he salivated at the thought of _tasting_ the closest thing he’d ever seen to a god.

“Come now, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn said, almost chidingly. “Do you not recognize an invitation when you see one?”

Kallus looked up at him for confirmation before reaching forward to tug down his pants, biting back a moan as his thick, indigo cock bounced in front of him before settling, hot and heavy before him. Kallus leaned forward, mouth already open, to lick up the pearlescent fluid seeping from the head; It was almost sweet.

His jaw already ached from being slammed against wall and desk, but Kallus opened his mouth as wide as he could to take Thrawn’s cock into his mouth, moaning at the hot weight against his tongue. Just as the tip butt against his throat and made him gag, strong hands gripped his hair once more, _yanking_ his head forward.

“What do you think, Agent Kallus,” Thrawn said, a growl coloring his voice. “One thrust for each transmission? Or one _minute._ ”

Kallus’s eyes watered as his throat struggled to even _choke._

“Well?” Thrawn demanded, yanking Kallus’s head off his cock.

Kallus swallowed desperately at the air and managed a strangled, “Yes.”

Thrawn face was like steel as he asked, “How many did you make, Agent Kallus? How many times did you _betray your people_?”

“ _Three,_ ” Kallus choked out, barely finishing the word before Thrawn’s cock was back in his mouth, his copious precum sliding down his throat— _slithering_ into the hollow parts of him. 

Kallus struggled to breathe as Thrawn fucked into his throat, his choking gags mixing with the drool that streamed from his lips. He tried to look up, to see if Thrawn’s face could contort like an ancient mask into a paragon of pleasure the way it had rage. But Thrawn’s face was utterly composed as he held the Agent’s head in place—the only trace of emotion there might’ve been called satisfaction at another problem dissected and solved, but no more.

The thought that he’d been that problem to be solved sent a flare of arousal dancing in Kallus’s stomach, even as his jaw and throat ached with the unforgiving force of Thrawn’s thrusts.

“That’s _one_ minute,” Thrawn said, yanking Kallus’s face from his cock just long enough for him to get in one good breath before fucking his face once more.

Kallus felt his muscles go lax as Thrawn fucked into him, held up only by the fist gripping his hair. He hardly missed the air by the time Thrawn pulled out again with a: “ _Two_ minutes.”

Hot drool mixed with Thrawn’s fluids sluiced down Kallus’s face, trailing down his neck and collecting in the dips of his collarbone. He forced himself to swallow around the cock shoved into his throat and basked in the sound of Thrawn's barely-audible groan of pleasure at the constriction.

Thrawn clenched his fist _hard_ in Kallus's hair in response: whether punishment or reward, Kallus had no idea and he was _well_ past caring about the difference.

He didn’t think there _was_ one anymore. _  
_

As suddenly as it had started, Thrawn pulled out. He tilted his head, curiously examining Kallus's face as the agent gasped for breath, running his thumb along his spit and precum-slicked bottom lip. Kallus’s mouth fell open at his slightest touch. The gentleness of the contact made his skin _thrum_ from sheer contrast.

Thrawn eyed him appraisingly. “I believe we can do better with your... rehabilitation. Against the wall.”

Kallus flexed his jaw and nodded. As he struggled to push himself up, a strong arm gripped his and guided him upward before shoving him toward the wall. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself before his face hit durasteel. He could feel Thrawn’s shadow overtake him like a cloak woven from his darkest desires—his _weakness_.

A breath of relief and anticipation escaped Kallus as the Admiral’s body heat radiated along his shivering back. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the cool wall as the blunt, slick head of Thrawn’s cock was rubbed along his crease with an obscene, wet sound. Kallus felt a thrum of anticipation each time the head dragged over his hole.

Kallus had just enough time to wonder if Thrawn had _ever_ bothered to be gentle with Eli before the man was pressing into him.

“ _Ah—"_ Kallus choked out before clenching his jaw shut, feeling his restrained whimper vibrate in his teeth.

Thrawn was _thick_ and Kallus hadn’t done this in _ages._ A hot hand pressed against his lower back like a brand, claiming him as he held him steady.

Kallus's thighs spread in surrender even as he felt like he was being split in half, resisting the urge to go limp and leave himself completely at Thrawn’s mercy.

 _No_ , he thought grimly: he was _always already_ at Thrawn’s mercy. _He'd just been too stupid to realize it._

Kallus took slow, shuddering breaths as Thrawn eased into him, his hands moving to grip Kallus’s waist. He felt cool breath tickling his ear as Thrawn filled him completely, lining their bodies together. It was a welcome contrast to the overwhelming heat inside him, and the heat of the body pressing him to the wall.

Kallus felt like an exotic butterfly being pinned to a board for the casual delight of a collector: he had nothing to hope for beyond being beautiful for his killer.

As Thrawn molded his chest against him, Kallus _hated_ that their bodies fit together so well. It made everything about tonight seem so much more inevitable—so much more _tragic._

_Of course, Kallus broke. He always had and always would._

Thrawn thrust forward and Kallus was forced flat against the wall, his fingers clawing uselessly against its smooth surface. The only thing keeping him upright was Thrawn’s hands on his waist and the slamming of his hips against his ass.

Kallus felt a strong hand grip his injured thigh and lift it up; pain shot up his spine from his old injury even as the change of angle sent shocks of pleasure through his limbs. He didn’t know if it was the pleasure or pain or _both_ making his legs tremble, and he suspected Thrawn didn’t _care._

A sharp burst of pleasure sent precum dribbling from his cock and Kallus moaned. He tried to move a hand to relieve the pressure building—the _need to come—_ but Thrawn stopped him, pinning the agent's arm against his own back as he sped up his thrusts.

Kallus whimpered, attempting to rut against the wall in his desperation. His only relief came in the form of a particularly hard _thrust_ that sent Kallus’s body slamming against the wall for a few glorious microseconds of friction on his neglected cock.

Thrawn paused his thrusts and Kallus fell back against his chest, held in place by a firm hand on his abdomen.

Kallus let out a strained whine as Thrawn gripped Kallus’s weeping cock in his fist, holding it steady. The moment Kallus tried to writhe in his grip for some semblance of satisfaction, Thrawn tightened the grip on his abdomen, holding him immobile—pinned to his own chest. Kallus groaned in desperation, his head falling back against Thrawn’s shoulder, baring his throat like a defeated beast.

“Who commands you?” Thrawn asked.

“You do, sir,” Kallus croaked.

Thrawn released Kallus's cock from his hand and the agent barely had time to let out a whimper at the loss before he was shoved roughly back toward the desk.

"Bend over," the admiral said.

Kallus did so, folding himself in half against the desk's surface. His cheeks and neck bloomed with humiliation as Thrawn said, "You are getting far better at following orders already, Agent Kallus: most promising."

Kallus swallowed hard, resisting the urge to look behind him. He had thought Thrawn might have left for a moment before he suddenly felt fingers on the back of his neck, trailing down his spine as they mapped the boundaries of his blush.

The touch was incongruously gentle until it _wasn't._

Fingers dug into Kallus's hips and he felt a grunt _pushed_ out of him as Thrawn penetrated him once more, not stopping until he was fully seated.

Thrawn was still just long enough to force Kallus’s legs further apart with his knee before resuming his thrusts—deeper now—each one an assault on Kallus's already fraying senses.

The tension in Kallus's stomach twisted as the heat spread in his body, edging out each last inch of hatred—of rebellion—until there was nothing left but a broken will that could only feel _pain_ and the even more intense _pleasure_ that chased it.

Kallus could see the glow of the holo-map casting constellations on his arms, shifting as he was jerked back and forth across the desk with each punishing thrust. A small system he thought might've been Atollon dragged in orbit along his arm before moving out of sight past his shoulder and he clenched his eyes shut, shrinking the galaxy of his own perception to the thick cock pounding inside him: the wet, obscene sound it made such a contrast to Thrawn's carefully composed silence.

"You have such striking eyes, Agent Kallus: keep them open," Thrawn ordered, and Kallus immediately obeyed, unthinking, because that was _who he was_. "Watch the map, Agent," he said, pausing his thrusts just long enough to lift Kallus's right thigh and force it above the desk before he started pounding into him again; each thrust now sending a sharp jolt through Kallus's limbs that made him spasm and drool against the desk. "I want you to look at the price you paid just to get _fucked_ by your superior like you _don't deserve._ "

Kallus sucked in a sharp breath on the edge of a whine as Thrawn fucked him into delirium, giving no respite to his nerves between the punishing thrusts aimed with perfect precision to _undo him_. He stared at the map hovering above the desk.

Thrawn must have done something because there was a red line cutting across the galaxy now—a fleet trajectory—and it ended at Atollon.

There was no distinction between pleasure and pain anymore: just sharp, unrelenting flares of sensation that Kallus's body could hardly make sense of beyond needing _more_. He could feel something swell deep inside his core: like biting, slithering heads of a great mythical beast, devouring him from the inside out and replacing his blood with heat and his thoughts with the need to _surrender._

“ _Please,_ ” Kallus begged between gasps, his balls tightening against his body, his entire being clenching with need. “ _Sir, I—”_ He screwed his eyes shut against the rising tide of sensation that seemed to just _hover_ at the edge, wrapping its tendrils around him and holding his release hostage. He didn’t know what he needed he just knew _that_ he needed: knew that Thrawn was the only who could command the beast consuming him—

“Can you hear them, Agent Kallus?” Thrawn demanded, his voice a low growl. “Can you hear the engines of the fleet? The turbolasers? Can you hear your comrades _dying under my heel like the vermin they are_?”

Kallus dug his nails into the wood and _wailed._

_“Can you?”_

“Yes!”

“Then _come,_ ” Thrawn ordered just as he _snapped_ his hips forward.

Kallus cried out in relief as he felt his orgasm _slither_ out of him, writhing along his nerves in serpentine waves before spilling out and painting the side of the desk with his cum. Thrawn fucked him through it— _hard—_ each sharp thrust sending out a fresh burst of surrender from Kallus's spent cock.

The relief was short-lived because Thrawn _didn't stop_.

Kallus bit back a whine, but he couldn’t stop the groan vibrating through his clenched teeth as each thrust sent another burst of sensation dancing across his skin like an ion blast scattering over a ship’s hull, drawing out a scream of protest from each over-stimulated nerve in his body. He could feel his cock twitching feebly, trying desperately to cum again but Thrawn had already taken _everything he had._

Thrawn mercilessly pounded the agent's prostate with precise, steady strikes: drawing this out for no other reason than to feel Kallus convulse helplessly beneath him in a drooling heap. Kallus's insides clenched around him as his fucked-out body tried and failed to feel the pleasure that had already been milked to the last drop and left splattered against the desk along with his integrity.

Kallus felt Thrawn stiffen against him for a moment before yanking Kallus’s ass against him, grinding almost lazily as he finished. He hardly made more than a _grunt_ as he came—the only evidence of its intensity were the finger-prints left in purple and red on Kallus’s hips. 

Kallus moaned in relief as the hot cum filling him gave some semblance of sensation beyond over-stimulation, like the specter of the second orgasm his body had been so desperately chasing.

Thrawn pulled out with a slick sound and released his grip on the Agent’s hips. Kallus managed to turn before collapsing against the side of the desk, sliding down to the floor in a listless daze, Thrawn’s cum sticky beneath his ass and between his thighs.

A mechanical trill sounded from the grand admiral’s desk. Thrawn leaned over, keyed in a few commands on the comm, and Commander Faro’s voice echoed in the office.

“ _Grand Admiral_ ,” she said, “ _I am pleased to report that your instructions proved as insightful as ever. The insurgent base has been eliminated—no Imperial casualties._ ”

“Well done, Commander,” Thrawn said. “And excellent timing, as always. Rendezvous with the _Chimaera_ at these coordinates. We make for Coruscant upon your arrival.”

“ _Yes, sir!_ ”

Thrawn ended the transmission, picked up his uniform trousers, and began to pull them on with all the poise of a prince. He did not spare a glance for the agent on the ground as he slid his arms into his perfectly-pressed tunic. “Take comfort in knowing that the Emperor you so despise will not hold the title for long,” he said, running a hand along the sealing strip of his white uniform. “As I said, there are no more gods: only me.”

He picked up his white gloves and cast the agent on the floor a quick glance. “If nothing else, Fulcrum,” Thrawn said, pulling on his gloves, “the betrayal of your newfound principles was _artistically done_.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then Thrawn did a little coup. The end. *closes storybook*
> 
> It's really up to you if Eli or anyone else died or not: you do you!
> 
> You may have recognized some lines from the main fic: I tried sprinkling on some extra dark!Thrawn seasoning. *shake shake shake*
> 
> There are three Thrawn/Kallus fics in the works in Promises-verse, in three levels of Thrawn-darkness: 
> 
> 1\. This one: welcome! It's the most dark. Well-done darkness.  
> The only reason I managed to make a one-shot for once is because I exorcised bits of this fic and moved to another one (i.e. #2)
> 
> 2\. "Listless" featuring Kallus/Lyste and Kallus/Thrawn and Kallus/Lyste/Thrawn during the events of "Through Imperial Eyes"/Promises chapters 37-38 - Medium darkness! 
> 
> 3\. The first fic in a new Promises sub-series MYTHIC: "Cover Me in Pearls" featuring Thrayjallus threesomes and polyamory. Medium-rare-to-rare darkness! Not much darkness. Not quite carpaccio, but close.
> 
> These will all be getting dumped into the **Thrall** series if you want to keep an eye out


End file.
